Deep Cluck reached for the mic, motioning for the scratcher to step back. She shook her head, clutching the mic tighter. This was likely the biggest story she was ever going to come across, and no way was she letting it go.

“Are we live?” asked Deep Cluck.

“We’ve been live the entire time, Mr. Cluck.”

“Very well. Please step closer, then. I – we – have a very important message for your viewing audience.”

“They have heard you fine so far, Mr. Cluck.”

“I promise not to snatch your microphone, sir. Just… please. Closer.”

The scratcher looked offscreen to the left, then raised an eyebrow. Then she nodded. She stepped closer, then handed the mic to Deep Cluck.

“You’re certain?” asked Cluck.

“Go for it.”

“I thank you.”

Deep Cluck looked straight into the camera, which did a tight focus on his face.

“You have all just heard our amazing story, reminding you of how we were persecuted during the Great Poultry Uprising, and how those of us who survived were forced to evacuate. You have now heard the full story, never publicized before, of what was done to the mutant chickens during their captivity, and why it was done. You have heard from Dr. Varcelius Von, the planet’s foremost scientific mind, even in his forced exile, why he has chosen to join with us at this point in time. So the blinders are off!

“Before going any further, I would like to express our sincere appreciation to the staff of this fine organization for allowing us to bring this to your attention. It was not an easy decision, I assure you. Many of us believed – and continue to believe – that we would have been much safer had we remained hidden, allowing the secret of our existence to follow us to our graves. But in the end we agreed it was worth the risk to our own well-being to come out into the light to fight for the well-being of all critters and mutants, on Planet 10 and elsewhere. Because we have lived our lives as an afterthought underfoot of the purebloods for far too long. The time has come for restitution, for a balancing of scales so to speak, and the time for that is now. Thank you.”

Deep Cluck handed the mic back to the scratcher, who looked as if she had seen a ghost, her mouth hanging open wide.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I think all of you here are about to find out shortly,” said Cluck, smiling broadly.

Moments later it was as if the entire population of Planet 10 had decided to call the Daily Screamer at once. The scratcher began looking frantically about the room, her eyes darting back and forth from one screeching phone to the next. Then the phone in her pocket began to ring.